


Velveteen

by oh_no_melon



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Robot Feels, robot humanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_melon/pseuds/oh_no_melon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you.'</p><p>Richard's MX begins to question what it means to be real and wonders if such a thing even is possible.<br/>Perhaps it's all just a fairy tale, all nonsense. Perhaps there's more to it than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Velveteen

**Author's Note:**

> There's a couple people I could blame for this but honestly, I blame myself. I just COULDN'T stop thinking about this idea so here it is, out for the world to see!  
> I hope you enjoy it!

Most city dwellers could remember where they were and what they were doing when the first MX-43 advertisement came over the radio, the television, or as an ad on their phone. The mass distribution of the ad was intended to be viewed as both a hopeful shout out to the general public and as a gaudy warning for those who disliked the local PD. The tagline read ‘CITY PROTECTION NOW HAS THREE NEW FACES’ and displayed each design of the MX proudly; their stoic features and blue eyes making the statement that these machines would become fierce, unyielding members of the police force.

Richard Paul remembered the debut of the ad well. At that time, nearly four years previous, he had been sitting on the hood of his personal car while his wife was signing the divorce papers inside his no longer home. It was a flash on his phone and meant very little to him because he had been given an heads up of the MXs earlier in the week when Maldonado had handed them the specs on a data pad. Those without human partners were allowed to pick their MX and Richard had selected model 1. Stahl had selected model 2 and Kennex scoffed, stating that these ‘dumb toasters’ wouldn’t replace real detectives and he’d be surprised if they lasted a month before being reduced to mere traffic cops.

That was four years ago and three things had happened since: Richard was divorced, MXs were mandatory, and Kennex remained a dumbass regardless of what happened to him prior. The last was hardly regarded as news. He had been lucky with his MX thus far; he had only been replaced once and that was due to Kennex. Most officers had to replace their MXs at least three times since the release for various reasons ranging from complete shutdowns to damaged while in combat. Even when Kennex got trigger happy, techs were able to transfer most his MX’s data directly to the new model so, ultimately, it was as if he hadn’t gone missing at all.

It was not something he wanted to repeat, though. Transferable hard drive or not, watching his MX fall was a hit in the gut he hadn’t expected to feel. Kennex was lucky that day and perhaps he would never know just how lucky he was when Maldonado was right there and that Richard had more self-restraint than to let his fists truly fly. That awkward slapping session was nothing in comparison to what the man could do when properly provoked. When he walked down that day to pick out his new partner, he scrutinized each version 1 model over minor things: the way the face was constructed, the height, how it held itself when in stasis and God knew what other mental tests he conducted. Twenty minutes of heavy analysis found him one that was CLOSE, but only close. Maybe its mannerisms would return once the data was transferred over.

Now, Richard only found small differences between the two and that was comforting. Perhaps they were improvements; his current MX seemed to catch onto human colloquialisms quicker, made considerably better coffee, and always made it a point to inform Richard just what Kennex was doing wrong though he would no longer tell the other detective directly to his face. In fact, he avoided Kennex and Dorian all together unless Richard was right beside him.

Richard’s MX was next to him all the time since he’d been replaced. His older one tended to walk away, give him space and stand next to the other MXs in an orderly fashion. This one though, he wouldn’t leave unless asked and Richard rarely asked. He grew accustomed to the shadow next to his desk and that slight hum he gave off. Subtle, but enough to make his presence known.

Day in and day out, Richard was grateful for the reliable if not stiff following of his android. He may not be a human partner but his being there was a secure feeling in the normally hectic world of law enforcement. One evening when the city was blanketed in a heavy rain, the near entirety of the department was called to duty over a massive hostage situation involving an elementary school and an irate father trying to force visitation upon his estranged son and daughter. That night, Richard discovered just how grateful he was to have such an MX.

The second grade class from South Bend Elementary were rehearsing late in the evening for an upcoming play and none were alone by any stretch of the imagination. Several teachers, assorted faculty, and parent volunteers were staying late among the children so no one thought twice about the father in question. They hadn’t seen him often before participate in such activities but his children happily acknowledged him and that seemed to be enough. An honest mistake made by anyone which made no one at fault. Half way through the opening scene, the mother of the two children arrived and from there, the events quickly escalated. The loud argument turned to violence when he unveiled the high caliber weapon from his bulky jacket and demanded everyone to drop to the ground while he dealt with his ex-wife.

If not for a grandmother’s quick thinking to text for help, it would have been too late for those trapped in the auditorium of the school. The local PD had arrived and, as per his usual, Richard was one of the first on the scene. MX in tow, Richard searched for a familiar face in the crowd of helmets and wet hair. From what he’d heard over dispatch, Kennex was about fifteen minutes out and Stahl should be there momentarily as long as she was careful in such a torrential downpour. Until then, the detective kept to himself and only asked questions when needed. The side of his partner’s face continued its red glow as he processed information from other synthetics already on the scene and offered information as he felt needed.

“Sir, Detective Kennex and his DRN unit will be arriving within ten minutes. It is advised to follow Detective Rangan in for negotiations. He will be doing so shortly. His MX unit and I will lead you two in upon your command.” Richard’s MX instructed, unblinking even in the heavy rain. Richard scanned the area to find Rangan speaking into his comm, gaining permission and instruction from Maldonado. When he finished, his head also rose to look for Richard. Eye contact was made and the silent pact to move ahead commenced.

“Don’t say anything to freak out the kids,” Richard muttered under his breath to Rangan while they snuck through the fire exit of the auditorium. Luckily, since the only gunman was too focused on the massive amount of hostages and children, he left many entrances open.

“I’m trained to deal with situations like this. Be my back up like you were instructed. And tell your MX to move ahead; he’s crowding me.” Rangan gave a quick shove of Richard’s MX who was lagging behind the other. Richard elbowed Rangan and glared at him, taking a stand beside his partner.

“Hey, lay off him. If he’s standing there, there’s a reason. He’s probably trying to keep your butt safe so ease off. Hey,” Richard said, tapping the shoulder of his MX gruffly, “what’s going on? What are you getting?” His MX’s face lit briefly and then he turned, letting Rangan and MX continue onward.

“I am calculating the best method in which will result in fewer casualties. Perhaps we are in error to enter with weapons visible. The chances of agitating the perpetrator further with openly displayed firearms and then causing discharge of said weapons is nearly doubled when-“

“Tell your bot to quiet down. I’ve never heard a synthetic talk so much!” Rangan grunted, aiming his gun into the darkened hallway they were now entering. His synthetic proved true; he spoke not a word and followed instruction and direction like the well programmed public soldier it was designed to be.

“You’ve obviously never met Kennex’s. Maybe mine’s onto something; we probably should go in more peacefully than this.”

“You’re forgetting the twenty five children and their parents in there.”

“I’m not; in fact they’re the number one thing on my mind.” Richard let the last part trail for they were reaching the auditorium and could distinctly hear the soft sounds of crying and one man dictating the situation. The door leading in had a wired glass window which Rangan peeked through quickly to assess the location of the perp and where the children were. He was suddenly excited and it made Richard nervous.

“He’s got his back to the door and all the kids are flat on the ground. From what I saw, no one was injured. I could easily take a shot and he’d be down.”

“No. That’s not what we were instructed to do. We won’t do a damn thing that could get anyone hurt. Use your brain- SHIT!” The events happened fast but Richard could piece them together later as he explained what happened to the paramedics and, unfortunately, to the curious Kennex. The perp had heard them and turned his back, gun pointing and fear stricken shakiness making a shot blast through the window aimed at Rangan. Richard had seen him turn and pushed Rangan out of the way only to take the brunt of the wayward shot to the shoulder. His MX wound up being the true hero of the evening by breaking down the door, securing the weapon with quick efficiency, and then subduing the perpetrator onto the floor.

Richard, on the floor with his hand gripping the bloody mass of his shoulder, thought his current position was rather funny. He had never been shot on the line of duty before though he had been waylaid with a baseball bat, stabbed in the foot of all places when a criminal had tried to crawl away from him, and had his nose broken when he was head-butted by a really angry, really strong seven year old. This definitely took the cake on the pain meter and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Rangan was screeching something into his comm and his MX had followed Richard’s to assist but all in all, Richard felt fairly content motionless on the floor.

He did remember his training during this and what many had told him if such a disaster ever happened. Don’t close your eyes. Remain calm. Think of anything but the wound. For the love of god, keep pressure on it. He was doing a fair job of all of it so far but he felt chilled rather suddenly. Luck was with him for when he opened his eyes after a brief rest, his MX was above him, kneeling down and eyes trained on his face.

“Detective. You have been shot.”

“Really? That’s what that was?” Richard chuckled but winced at the pain. His partner pulled Richard’s away and replaced them with his own, the pressure far greater than what Richard was applying himself.

“The paramedics will be within the building in two minutes. The wound is not superficial but is not critical. The bullet grazed your upper bicep enough to cause a wound 5/8ths an inch deep and five inches long. It will require stitches. You must keep your eyes open to help reduce the chance of shock.” The MX turned its head to the side as if listening but was unsatisfied for what he didn’t hear. “The paramedics are late.”

“I’m all right. You should be in there, you know.” Richard wasn’t going to reprimand him after he had done so much already but he didn’t want to think about the over clinical method of his speech. Simple words worked best right now but Kennex was nowhere to be found.

“Detective Rangan is currently assisting the children and their parents. There were no casualties. The only injuries sustained are by the perpetrator, who will more than likely wake with a concussion in several hours. I am to remain by your side.” It was an MX’s way of saying ‘shut up, I’m not leaving’ and Richard knew it. Realizing it comforted him.

“I’m trying to find the irony of me being the only one injured in a major hostage situation but it’s not coming to me.”

“I believe this is the appropriate time to state that it could be worse.”

“Yeah. You’re not the one who’s been shot though.”

“I am not. But I have been.” The worst part of this conversation was that it was true and that, deep down, it bothered Richard more than his own ‘superficial injury’.

The auditorium filled quickly with police officers and paramedics that the children grew antsy and most, now that the danger had passed, were uncertain as to how to behave. Their parents tried to rally them into an orderly group but it wasn’t happening. It ultimately took Dorian sitting them in a circle and reading to them to maintain any kind of sanity amongst the group. Kennex, after his incredibly delayed arrival, decided to make up for it by playing nursemaid to the recovering Richard.

It was not without its barbs and jabs.

“So how’s your booboo? Need me to kiss it better?” Kennex said, sitting beside Richard about six rows from the main stage. Richard had separated himself after the paramedic injected a sedative once the temporary stitches were in place. He was drowsy but refused to go to the hospital just yet; he assured them he would go but he wanted to make sure each child would go home without fear and that may not be for another half hour or so. Questioning detained them just a bit longer but it looked as if it were wrapping up.

“I’d punch you if I hadn’t gotten shot in my right arm.”

“I know. I’m milking this for all I can. So I hear your MX saved the day. Went in by himself and stopped the guy from shooting anyone. Well, shooting anyone else.”

“Yeah. He did. What’s yours doing anyway?” Richard asked, squinting to see if he could make sense of Dorian amongst a tribe of small children. He had a data pad in his hand and that’s about all Richard could understand.

“He’s reading to them so we can relax. He’s the REAL hero tonight.” Kennex leaned back and sighed, smirking in Richard’s direction. Regardless of the pain and the general feeling Kennex left him, Richard smiled as well.

On the stage, Dorian was finishing up the story while the children thanked him as a group and left to find their parents, now permitted to leave. Richard’s MX had been standing to the side to remain out of the way but felt curious ever since Dorian had congregated the children and kept them placated for over thirty minutes. It seemed odd to him, especially since he hadn’t a clue what was on the data pad that could keep their interest so strongly. Data pads were just that: data. From what he had analyzed, children disliked data of most sorts due to its boring nature. Whatever it was that Dorian had been reading them was not the usual. He approached Kennex’s partner in order to find out the secret.

“DRN unit,” he began and Dorian, after rolling his eyes, turned to acknowledge him, “what were you reciting to the children from that data pad?”

“I was reading to them. A children’s story.” Dorian held up the pad which had the cover of the story in question. The MX tilted his head to the side and touched the middle of the pad long enough to download its contents. His finger hovered in place as his processors read the story, broke it down into segments, analyzed the foot notes, and brought meaning to his simple yet complicated robot mind. Dorian watched his comrade’s processors work but something seemed off; he blinked, knitted his brows in what looked like confusion, and his mouth fell open ever so slightly. To Dorian, the MX looked genuinely puzzled.

“Is there something I can describe for you? You seem to have a hard time processing this?” Dorian offered but the MX withdrew his hand and firmly placed it to his side.

“No DRN unit. I do not require any further information.” He gave no farewell but turned sharply on his heels in order to locate Richard. He began to march in his direction but could not stop trying to comprehend what he had absorbed from the pad. The strings of words all made sense to him and he understood the story from the dictated annotations of writers, analysts, and scholars over the hundred and six year history of the story but one aspect remained out of his grasp.

What did it mean to be ‘real’?


End file.
